Being the Tortoise

They say the secret to success is doing a little bit at a time every day.  "They" being experts and overall successful people.  And it is very practical advice.  I believe in that advice and I imagine it works.  The only thing is, it is so hard to put into practice. 

I saw an example of how hard this advice is to carry out in my experience with my former coworker.  She had worked for a gym and knew personal trainers, and so she knew a great deal about working out.  She was the one who got me started in going to the gym for the first time and on using the elliptical (and for an hour! I was dying!).  She even talked about making up a workout routine for us and everything.  But after only a few sessions, she stopped coming to the gym with me and our other coworker, opting instead to go out to eat.  She wasn't disciplined.  Later on, feeling guilty, she would go work out on her own for 3-6 hours, and feel really great.  But then after that, she wouldn't go work out for weeks altogether.  All she had to do was work out for a little bit at a time, and she would reap a great benefit, but she couldn't do that. 

I remembered thinking at the time that she tried too hard to do too much (she had been always wanting to do the hardest levels when she came with us, and was always pushing for more), and because of that she really didn't do much of anything.  Ironically, if she had just set out to do less a bit each day, she would have actually accomplished more in the long run, as in that old fable, "The Tortoise and the Hare."  Or in that proverb, "Less is more."  Both are true.  And I could see that she was the hare in that story.

It was interesting how I could see this trait in my coworker and chuckle at her foolhardiness, but recently since I have been experiencing the same issue, I see how easy it is to want to take on too much, to want to go too fast.  Albeit, it's on a slightly different tack because it concerns being creative, and when creativity comes into play, it's hard to be such a stickler for timeliness (or so that is my excuse). 

This was my issue:  I have been working on a project that contains approximately 100 items to deal with and decorate.  This project is due in a couple of months.  Now, I have been steadily going about completing five items a day in order to finish this project in time.  At the rate I'm going, as you can tell by the math, even if I just work on weekdays (which is what I'm planning on doing), I'll finish well before I need to finish.  But the thing is, even though I know this, and I know that this is the best way for me to finish this project without burning out, I still can't help wanting to finish this project sooner.  I just want to be done with this project as soon as possible.  And so I think about doing more than five items a day, and working on the weekend.  I know that doing such a thing would only cause me to feel burnt out and stressed and that the project was extremely hard and intense, and yet I still have a yearning to try it just to be done sooner; so I could be free of it sooner.  And though I know that doing the opposite, going the slow and steady course of the tortoise would get me to my destination and with less stress and care, making it feel quite easy when I was finally done, I still feel somehow that waiting 20 weekdays to have a finished project is torturous.  Why?  Because I want it done now!  Sigh.

But good things take time.  And so they also say, "Rome wasn't built in a day."  But wouldn't it have been cool if it was?  But no.  All those adages really hold true.  Patience is the key to success.  Patience and persistence.  If you keep on layering bricks, eventually you will build something, and it will have seemed quite easy.  Try to do too much and you run the risk of tiring yourself out, or scaring yourself so you never build anything at all. 

So here it goes.  I am going to try it the tortoise way and see how it turns out.   The hardest thing I think is waiting it out, knowing that I won't be done for a while.  I don't know why it matters since I know when I'm done, I'll no longer care so much.  I guess I feel I'll be much happier when I'm done, even though I'll suffer more getting it done faster. 

In any case, let's see how this slow and steady thing works.  Maybe it really is the key to success.

Why You Can't Always Believe an Expert

For the longest time I have had these little white bumps that kept popping up on my face and not going away.  I went to two doctors about this, and one, a general practitioner, gave me a prescription topical cream that didn't work and the other, a dermatologist, said that I needed laser surgery that would scar me.  The dermatologist also told me that my condition was called syringoma, and that it just pops up as you age, especially among Asian people.  No one knows why.  She gave me a list of laser centers I could contact (that wouldn't be covered by my HMO, since it's considered cosmetic), but left me feeling for the most part that there was really nothing I could do about it.

Having the diagnosis, I looked up the term on medical sites which basically said the same thing -- that no one knew the cause, and there was no cure, but laser surgery could help remove the existing ones.  The only thing was, laser treatment wouldn't prevent them from returning.  Nevertheless, I'm a big believer in home remedies and natural cures, and I decided to find a natural cure. 

So I searched for a miracle and I found something called Wart Mole Vanish.  I was lured in by the testimonials of the few people who had syringoma and said this worked for them.  It didn't hurt, too, that the product website claims to have won some prestigious award.  It didn't turn out to be a cure, but it did lessen the amount of bumps on my face, though at the same time, leaving me (somewhat) scarred with tiny pale circles where before the bumps had been.  It sounds terrible but it's not really too noticeable, and compared with the syringoma, it was a good improvement.  I did two rounds of this. 

But my mother didn't approve of me scarring my face in such a manner and so I was spurred to research some more, online.  And what I found stunned me.  The first thing I discovered was that I might not have syringoma after all.  Some nice girl posted about syringoma and milia, and that is when I first discovered that my problem might actually be something called milia.  It actually looks a lot similar to syringoma, with medical sites saying that they don't know the cause of or cure for it either.

However, the difference between syringoma and milia was vast -- more people had it, and not only did more people have it, more people knew the cause and the cures for it (at least what worked for them).  Let me just reiterate, medical sites didn't know the cause of this, and neither did doctors, but regular people with the condition did.  And it was very simple.  Very simple.  It was heavy creams.  Yes, heavy creams!  Just like in my post about kitty litter causing my allergies, another product had caused me another allergy (and this for seven years!) while all the time, I had thought it was just my skin behaving weirdly.  And doctors substantiated my thinking.

And these people with the same problem were right.  It is heavy creams.  For some people, like me, who are really sensitive, heavy creams prevent your skin from exfoliating dead skin cells especially among the thinnest parts of your skin on your face, i.e. your forehead, undereye, and chin.  I stopped applying heavy creams to the sensitive parts of my face and found in doing that no new milia formed.

But just doing that didn't get rid of the existing milia I already had.  No, that turned out to be a long drawn out process (see my post: "Milia Treatments & Cures") that I'm still going through.  But I will tell you though, that the bumps are lessening and my skin is improving. 

All this just goes to show you that you should never quit looking for a viable treatment just because one person says there isn't one, even if that person is a doctor.  As it turns out, and as I realized even more profoundly than ever, doctors don't know everything.  Sure, they know a lot, but they don't know everything.  And if they don't have what you have or haven't seen or treated what you have, chances are they won't know anything.  They can only take a best guess out of the millions of things it could be out of their medical books.  And very possibly, they might misdiagnose you.  So you can't believe what one doctor says or even two.  You have to follow your gut.  Even when I didn't know anything, and the dermatologist told me I had a condition called syringoma, I didn't think it was right.  And when I learned that syringoma is associated with Down Syndrome, that also didn't jive with me.  But when I researched and discovered it was milia, I knew it was right.

Sometimes you know better than you think.  But you have to trust yourself, even in the face of an expert, who says their diagnosis with confidence and conviction.  No one knows everything.  And you certainly can always learn more; enough to help yourself.

Why is it So Hard to Get Things Done?

Truthfully, we feel too much. 

If we didn't care about how tiring or dreadful this or that task was, or how time-consuming and tedious, or scary and risky, we would get a lot more things done.  But we care too much, and because we care, our feelings become a sort of monster that steps in front of our active self and stops us from doing the things we need to get done. 

Consider a computer.  A computer gets everything done that you ask of it, unless there's something wrong with it, of course.  But a healthy computer will perform everything you want, and it won't hesitate (except to process) nor whine.  It will just do it.  That's because it has no feelings for anything it does and so it does them all.  No task is better than another or easier.  It is all the same to the computer.  And because of that, computers accomplish a lot.  Consider how much your computer does each day.  But a healthy able-bodied human being, who could hypothetically do everything he tells himself, often doesn't get stuff done.   Instead, he hesitates and delays, hems and haws, and all because he allows a big monster named Dread to get in his way.

I am very well acquainted with the monster Dread and his intimidating, seemingly all-consuming presence.  Whenever I think of doing a task, he comes in between me and the task, and roars at me horribly, showing his frightful yellow teeth.  He threatens me with his rock hard muscles and his giant club.  And suddenly whatever I was planning to do seems most horrible and unpleasant.  So horrible and unpleasant that I often run away so that I don't have to deal with him.  But the horrible thing is, putting the task aside doesn't get rid of Dread.  He's still there in the corner of my eye, yelling and taunting, and it seems rather that each time I postpone doing something, Dread renews himself, becoming bigger and stronger, so that I am cowering under him and unable to do anything for fear of him. 

Only lately have I begun to realize that Dread has no power over me.  I am the one who has power over him, actually.  Because I am the one who created him in the first place.  So I can make him small or tiny, or silly and laughable, and I can even make him cease to exist if I like.  That is the power I have over Dread.  For I gave him life, so I can very easily take it away.

Case in point:  This weekend I cleaned the stove.  I didn't have to clean the stove, but it has been getting rather yucky with oil and grease stains all over it, and I have not cleaned it for a while.  It was one of my goals this year to clean it and when I wrote that goal, a vision of Dread went through my mind, and each time I thought about it, I saw Dread too.  But this weekend, I decided to clean the stove.  And I just did it.  I didn't consider what a terrible task it was, or how yucky.  I just considered what I needed to do to get it clean, and I did it.  And I put on some fun music while I worked.  And I enjoyed myself.  Now my stove is clean, cleaner than I've ever had it, and it looks beautiful!  And I get to enjoy looking at it and using it.  As I think back on it, I marvel at how easy it was to get this chore done when I had been dreading it all this time.  But at the moment I wanted to get it done, I didn't let Dread interfere.  I put him aside, even bringing in his arch nemesis Fun, and because of that I accomplished my goal.  I just did it, without considering my feelings for it. 

Each time I push aside Dread, I have realized that I often have a much better time of it, and it actually makes getting stuff done a breeze, and an enjoyable breeze at that.  I often feel much better about myself for doing it, because I kept a promise to myself, and it makes me feel like I accomplished something great (even if it's tiny).  It makes me happy and not just at that moment, but every time I see what I've accomplished, every time I see my nice clean stove.
 
In actuality, it's not the chore or having to do it that punishes us -- it's ourselves.  We punish ourselves by thinking terrible thoughts and making things harder than they really are or need to be.  If Sisyphus had enjoyed rolling a large boulder up a hill, and then watching it fall before it reached the top, would it still be considered a horrible punishment?  No.  It's how he felt about it that made it an onerous task vs an easy one. 

Indeed, perhaps the best way to free ourselves of dread is to choose to bring more fun into our lives, into whatever it is we are doing.  That way, instead of letting dread making us feel awful, we can enjoy just that much more of our lives.

Cause & Effect: Why Is It So Hard to See?

I suppose if it were really very simple to see the cause and effect relationship between events, scientists and other people who analyze data would have no job.  Still, when you do figure put the causal relationship, the cause can be so simple and so small that you wonder how it could have eluded your observation for so long and how such a small thing can have such a huge effect on your life.

Let me give an example, the effects first.

For the past year, I have been having major allergies.  I mean, major (for me).  And I was really perplexed because I am not a person to have seasonal or terrible allergies in general.  The thing was, it wasn't even seasonal allergies.  It was year-round, constant sneezing, congestion, and sometimes whole days with my nose running uncontrollably.  It was so bad, I actually took Loratadine for the first time in my life.  And when my friend recommended a sinus kit that clears out your sinuses by squirting warm water and salt up your nose, I even tried that.  Unfortunately, neither solution really worked.  I was still left with a stuffed up nose and piles of used tissue papers on my desk and bedstand every day.

When it first started happening, I wondered if it might be that I was allergic to my cats.  You see, I had had one cat for a while, but I had recently adopted another.  Two cats, perhaps, was too much for me to take.  And my allergies did coincide somewhat with the timing of the new kitty.  That was my first fear.  But as it turned out, my fear was unfounded.  I got a cold (which I never thought to be a good thing) and after the cold, my allergies ended for some time.  I could breathe fresh air.  That was quite weird and quite nice.  But the allergies soon returned and doubly bad.

I then thought perhaps that it was the air around me.  Somehow the air had gotten worse.  I wondered if perhaps my landlord had planted a new flower or plant that I was allergic too, and that now I was suffering because of it.  I couldn't do anything for that though.  And so it seemed, I had just gotten allergies, and there was nothing to be done but to suffer through it with a box of tissues, an air filter, and an allergy pill when I was really desperate.

Around the same time, I noticed that my boy cat would pee outside the automatic litter box.  I thought it might be his aversion to the self-cleaning rotation of it or the loudness of the motor, so I put in a regular box.  He peed outside that too.  I worried enough to tell my sister who then wondered if it might be a urinary tract infection.  I worried enough about that idea to ask my vet, who said that it was common for cats not to like automatic litter boxes.  And it wasn't like he always peed outside.  It was just sometimes.  I rarely caught him, but I could always smell it when he did.  I wondered if the boxes were too dirty for him, so I cleaned them up.  He still peed outside.  I wondered if maybe he just smelled the old pee and so he wanted to pee in those places.  I read that cats do that.  It was usually the same places, after all.  And so I tried everything to get the smell of the old pee out, even buying a bottle of Simple Solution, which I like and like the smell of, but sure enough, my kitty would go back to peeing in his same spots. 

Now that I've revealed the effects, could you guess at the cause?  Yes.  One cause.

It wasn't until my family pointed out to me how much litter dust my kitties were tracking around their house and when my nose kept running at their place -- when it usually only runs at my place -- that I realized that it might just be the litter causing my congestion.

You see, two years ago, I bought this new automatic litter box, a Litter Robot, and a new litter brand, World's Best Cat Litter, to go with it.  The first year I had the new box and litter, I had no allergies.  That was when the box worked.  The second year, when the box was broken, I realized, is when my allergies started.  The litter was fine in the Litter Robot, because there wasn't much litter and it was constantly filtering it, so there was less dust.  But when it broke, and I put that litter in a regular box, it would break down into a powdery dust that my kitties would track everywhere.  It also apparently filled the air around me that I didn't see.  I looked online and yep, I found that other people were allergic to it too and complained about its dust.

So it was THE LITTER!  You cannot imagine my surprise and joy when I figured this out.  It was the litter!   All this time it had been the litter and I had suffered because of it.  It's really expensive litter too, and by its name, I was fooled into thinking it was good and wouldn't hurt me, but it did.  It really did.

The other thing I found was that when I switched back to the litter I had used before, Swheat Scoop, my boy kitty then started using the litter box again.  I thought that he would because he had never peed outside with that brand, but when I heard him actually peeing into the box, which I had not heard him do for a while, I was positively elated.  You would never think the sound of kitty pee would sound so good.  He's now been peeing in the box, like a good little boy.  So it turns out:  He Didn't Like the Litter!  Go figure!  I thought it was all these other reasons besides the most obvious and simple one.  He Didn't Like the Litter!  I had noticed that when the kitties peed, the pee mixed with the corn litter gave off a sour unpleasant smell.  I guess he noticed this too and that's why he didn't like peeing in it.

And now I am left to rue how much time and suffering and money I spent on this litter, and on combating my allergies to it and on cleaning up my kitty's aversion to it.  I took allergy medication, I snorted water and salt up my nose, I blew my nose hundreds of times, I dealt with days of terrible congestion, I bought cleaning solution for my kitty's pee stains, and on top of it all, I paid extra money for this really expensive litter my body couldn't stand.

Yeah, it sucks.  But then I think, "Thank God that I figured it out."  Being so allergic for so long has made me really happy to be able to breathe fresh air and not be blowing my nose every minute.  Seriously, it was really bad.

And so I feel lucky, because I figured it out.  It was so simple and yet, I didn't even consider it for the longest time.  But there it was, right in front of my face, and apparently in the air around me.  So it just goes to show, cause and effect is hard to figure out, especially if you don't look hard enough for it.  We are so used to blaming our own immune system or the usual suspects like our body changing or the air outside or what have you, that we don't really stop to think about what might be really causing our symptoms.  If we did, we might actually figure it out sooner and save ourselves a lot of time, suffering, and money.

Controlling Dog People

I was at PetsMart the other day and saw the most adorable kitten for adoption.  She was some sort of tabby mix I believe although her tag labeled her as a tortie.  The best thing was that she seemed to like me too, even though I was just a stranger staring at her from behind the glass.  She kept gazing at me, and followed me behind the glass.

Well, I went on with my shopping of litter for my other kitties, and when I passed by again we both gave each other a longing look as though we knew it was meant to be between us.  (Yes, I am very romantic that way).  But alas, it was not to be.  I could not afford to take her in.  But she was the first kitty to make me really wonder, if I could afford to have another, would I adopt her?  That would make it three cute little kitties in my household.  And I thought, if I could afford it, I would take her.  I could be a crazy cat lady.  And at that moment, I could understand what went through the minds of crazy cat ladies.  Kitties are so adorable and if you could afford to give one a home, why not?  They deserve one.

And so then I understood crazy cat ladies.

But what does this have to do with the title of my post, you ask?  Well, the thought occurred to me today as I had been thinking of that cute little kitty in the window for some time, and about being ok with being a crazy cat lady, "Why did I have to be a crazy cat lady"?

I know that there is that stereotype out there, and there are in fact some women who have way too many cats.  There is even a crazy cat lady on The Simpsons (she's rather endearing in her own way, I think), and a documentary about crazy cat ladies.  Everyone knows they exist, and I don't dispute that point, but why is it that any female who decides to adopt a kitty (one kitty, mind you, or maybe two) gets hit with that eventual question, "Uh oh, are you going to become one of those crazy cat ladies?"

I was surprised when I adopted my first kitty and my roommate hit me with this inquiry.  First of all, I had never even thought of having any more than just one cat, and second of all, it was the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard.  Crazy cat lady?  For one cat?  "That's how it starts," she said.  My sister as well, when she adopted her two kitties, two brothers, was hit with that same question.  And as I thought more about it today, I got more and more annoyed (as happens when you think long enough about something that annoys you).  How dare that people should imply that just by owning a few kitties, I could turn into some crazy woman?  And I was even buying into their idea, by acknowledging by owning a few kitties I would be a crazy cat lady.  I was humbled and irked at the thought that I had allowed myself to buy into such prejudice and believe it to be true.

And so I came up with revenge.  Yes, revenge!  Because most of the time the people who are quick to ask if you will be a crazy cat lady are dog people (my roommate, for one).  And so here is where the title of my post and my revenge come in.  I began to think of labels I could attribute to people who own dogs because they're not all perfect themselves, I'll tell you that.  Of course, my first thought was of those angry men who own crazy pit bulls who attack and kill people.  "Angry Dog Man," I thought.  But no, that didn't seem to work.  And then I thought I hit on it, "Controlling Dog Person."  Yes, "Controlling Dog Person."

How so, you ask?

Well, let me give you a skewed view of dog people (as they skew the view of cat people).  Dog people need to have control.  That is why they like dogs.  Dogs obey you and listen to you.  That's why people who only like dogs don't like cats.  Cats don't obey you, they don't listen to you.  They do just as they please.  But to cat people, that is not a fault but rather the biggest charm of cats.  Like children you watch them do what makes them happiest and every day they teach you something about how to enjoy yourself and life.

But I digress.  Back to the Controlling Dog Person.  So, since dogs are more obedient and dog people like them for that trait, I could say that what these people really wanted was to be able to control their dogs.  And if they want to control their dogs, they must want to control other aspects of their life, and in general (stereotypically) be controlling people.  After all, we can all picture some hard-ass grouch yelling at his dog to obey (that's controlling and demanding).  I've seen a homeless young man (probably crazy!) with two big sweet dogs that he screamed at and kicked, and the dogs just took it, and I felt terrible for them.  Also, if you think about it, some of the most controlling people you know own dogs, or want to own a dog.  At least, in my experience and view.

Thus, this is the moniker I came up with, "Controlling Dog Person."  But this is not to say that I believe that all dogs are obedient, or that all people who own dogs are controlling, because they're not.  But when you're trying to make up a stereotype that you can use to disparage dog owners, you need to cut out all the extra gunk that doesn't fit into the generalization you're trying to make (i.e. crazy cat lady).  That's how you make a good stereotype. 

So that is the story of how I came up with my ultra-cool, ultra-hip new stereotype, "Controlling Dog Person."  Now whenever someone I know gets a dog, I'm going to say to them, "Watch out!  You don't want to become one of those Controlling Dog People."

Leno vs Conan: Battle of the Chin & Hair

I just had to get into this topic because I stayed up late last night reading about what happened with Letterman and Leno in their contest for the Tonight Show.  I wanted to see who was at fault in that debacle and as it turned out, it was the network, NBC, in an episode that is remarkably deja vu to the one going on now. 

The problem with the network then (as I see it), and now, is that they wanted to have their cake and eat it too.  Before, they wanted both Leno and Letterman.  This time, they wanted to have both Leno and Conan.  And it just didn't work.  They were trying to be too greedy, keeping all the late night show talents to themselves, and in the end, what happened was that it ended up all blowing up in their face.  When they were faced with the choice, they chose one way, and then when it all came to pass, they didn't want to stick with their first choice -- namely, of Conan heading the Tonight Show. 

When I first heard about the situation, I thought it was like having two great boyfriends you have to choose from.  One is a nice guy and the other is a fun guy, and you like being with both of them.  Of course, they want you to choose which one of them you want to be with, because if it's not them, they're going to explore their options, namely with your hated enemy.  But you can't have that happen.  You hate the idea of seeing either boyfriend with your rival and so you try to keep both.  But it doesn't work that way.  You can't have both, especially if both want to be your one and only.  You have to choose. 

NBC got in trouble because it couldn't choose.  It wanted too much and so it lost everything.  So that is the moral of the story:  Choose.  Either way they would have wound up with good talent, and not so much bad PR as they are getting now. 

In any case, I would just like to say that I like both men but that if I had to choose, I am on Leno's side on this.  I just find it really sad.  Just think about it.  Five and a half years ago, Conan pushed to get the Tonight Show, basically pushing Leno out of his job.  Of course, it wasn't Conan's intention to hurt Leno, he just really wanted to know that he could expect the Tonight Show -- the holy grail of late night shows apparently -- would be in his future.  If not, he could go elsewhere and make more money.  But that meant Leno, after doing a great job for NBC, would be out of a job.  Instead of releasing Leno to do a show with another network, NBC opted instead to try to keep him with a primetime show that didn't work.  And now Leno's getting all the blame for everything because he wants the job he loved, with the time slot he did well at, back.  Who wouldn't? 

I understand Conan's beef too.  After all, they promised him the show, and then without giving him much time to make it a hit, they tried to push it back.  He never really got a chance to be the first late night show, since in primetime, Leno preempted him.  I thought that sucked.  If you make a promise, you keep it, because that's what you do.  It shows you have integrity.  Now Conan is left to think about all the offers he rejected because of this promise and all the time he spent preparing to take over the Tonight Show, when it only lasted seven months. 

In the end, I feel bad for both of them.  It's neither of their faults really.  It's just what happens when you have one thing that two people want, and a judge who can't decide who to give it to.  I wish the both of them well, and hope they come out of this thing more successful.

Why Does Time Fly as We Get Older?

I once overheard a coworker of mine saying that time flies after the age of 25.  Being only 16 at the time, I wondered if it were true.  Now I know it is.

Today as I was thinking about all the things I have to do (and how much faster time seems to fly on Friday than any other day), I remembered back to the conversation with my friend about just why it is that time flies so fast when you get older.

Do you remember how it was as a kid?  Time was really slow then.  A month was like forever.  Summer vacation -- that was heaven.  One year -- wow, it never ended.  But now, it seems like in the blink of an eye, it's the new month, the new year, the new decade.  Where did all that time go?  I know it could not have gone far as time is constant.  It doesn't change from person to person, and yet for the more experienced, it seems to go by faster. 

It occurred to me though that perhaps the reason that time appears to be going faster is because we have so much more to do.  The older we get, the more responsibilities we have, and so, the more we have to do.  We learn a lot, and the more we learn, the more we have to accomplish, and sometimes there just isn't enough time in the day to accomplish everything we want.  Most children don't have this problem because children have less responsibilities.  Remember what you had to do as a kid?  Schoolwork?  Chores?  Anything else?  No.  Not really, unless you had a pet, or circumstances that resulted in you having more responsibilities to bear.  But most children have very little to think of (in America, at least).  As an adult though, you have bills, licenses, taxes, health care, cooking, a job, spouse, kids, car, house, etc. etc. to think of and take care of in the same span of time you got as a child.  No wonder you feel you have no time.  To accomplish all you want, you really don't have any.  I suppose that's why they say that the best thing to do is to simplify your life.  It's having too much to do that can make it stressful and hard to deal with. 

Furthermore, as a child, you spend most of your time waiting.  You wait for your parents to buy you the toy you wanted, for your parents to pick you up from school, for you to be tall enough to turn on the lights or ride the roller coaster, for you to be old enough to drive a car.  I think that's the reason why time goes so slow for kids.  They're constantly waiting for something or waiting until they're old enough to do something better, something prohibited to them because of their age.  That's probably the reason why 21 is the best age to be (so we think), just because it's the last age where most things that were prohibited to us as kids, are no longer prohibited to us.  But what if things were still prohibited to us, would time go slower for us and would we yearn to be older?  I remember my friends and I hoping to be 25 so that we could go on a cruise by ourselves.  It sounds dumb, and we didn't go on a cruise, but something in human nature loves overcoming an obstacle.  It's about being able to do what was denied us.  We love that.  Even if we don't do it.  We love knowing that we now are able to do it. 

So there you go, the reason time flies is because we have so much to do and there's nothing better for us to wait for (it seems).  But what if we could do less and at the same time, have something worth waiting for?  Wouldn't that bring us on par with children in terms of seeing the motion of time?  Wouldn't time slow down for us then?  Perhaps what we need to do is to find something to prohibit ourselves from having until we are older.  It has to be good and well worth waiting for.  And then perhaps, time will seem to drag as it did before.  As anyone who has watched the clock at work knows, time goes really really slowly when you're waiting for something better.

Seeing What You Want to See

I had an argument with my friend over just this topic, so of course now it is my post for the day.

Our argument began with him saying how Americans are always trying to point out the differences between people and how prevalent that idea is in the media.  In some way or form, Americans are always trying to point out, "You're different."  That was his absolute opinion.  My argument was that Americans are not the only ones who do that.  Every country, every culture, every people do that.  Everyone discriminates.  If not race, we discriminate on class, culture, religion, gender, sexual preference.  Everyone does this.

My friend did not agree, however.  He was trying to aver that only Americans do it to such a high degree, that other countries aren't so bad.  "You don't find it in other countries."  And I said, "No, that's not true."  And I pointed out how I met a black man in Germany, an educated man working hard to pay for school, who said that if he applied for an apartment, he would be turned down as soon as they saw him.  And of course, my friend dismissed this story because it happened in Germany, a place known for Nazis.  But I told him Germany was trying to change their image precisely because of that; and yet, there is still that racism.  Of course, he would not listen, and kept declaring that other countries were not like America in their discrimination.  And I kept declaring that, "Yes they are!  I have been to other countries!"  At the time I thought of Madonna and how she was trying to get out word about the discrimination of the gypsies in Europe, which in the heat of argument, I couldn't get out.  And now I can think of a great argument which I didn't think of back then, which was that when my other friend and I went to Europe, we were commonly mistaken for Japanese tourists (which we are not), and sometimes subjected to Japanese words as if we understood.

But my friend wouldn't listen, falling back instead on the argument that Americans and white people are the most discriminating people in the world.  In my thinking, anyone who is in power would be the same, because everyone wants to think they are and be better than everyone, and it would be to their benefit to do so.  But my argument was falling on deaf ears and pretty soon, frustrated, I said, "I'm not going to argue with you anymore.  You don't listen.  You just want to be right.  You want to see the world the way you want to see it."

I thought that was it, but then he became flustered at and adamantly denied my new reasoning (because he believes his view of the world is the one true, right one).  And I shot back, "You see what you want to see.  If you want to see it, it's going to be there."  He couldn't believe the idea that just because he wanted to see something, it would be there.  He is of the mind, as so many other people, that it has to be there for him to see it.  And I said, to continue my new argument, that "It's like the Bible.  The Bible will say something, and two people will interpret it differently, and both of them will think they're right.  And what is right?  Who knows?"  But he wouldn't listen to that argument either, opting instead to say that if he saw things the way he wants to see them, he could just as easily say that I ignored things (notice he didn't say, that I saw things the way I want to see them.  Mmhmm.).  That statement annoyed me, but I wasn't about to go on fighting anymore, especially when his girlfriend, my friend, told us that we were both wrong, and that both our arguments made no sense.  That annoyed me too, but I figured she just might be trying to end our argument, which was just fine with me.

I am perfectly willing to admit that I see the world the way I want to see it.  Is it the real world?  Who knows?  Is there a real world?  Who knows?  And who can ever prove it?  It doesn't mean I am wrong.  It doesn't mean I am right.  It just means I see a part of the world I want to see.  It's like looking at a rose, I thought, pretty soon after this argument.  I could see a rose and see its beautiful red petals and admire it, and my friend there would see that it has thorns.  Are we both right?  Yes.  Do we both see a part of the truth?  Yes.  But I like the part of the truth I see better. 

It is so mind-boggling to me, even though I've read books that have made me aware of it recently, that so many people (so many people) believe that the world they see is in some way the "real world."  Although, I was probably in the same boat as them just a few years ago.  But I also have held, for the most part, a somewhat different view from other people I knew, which I can only attribute to, as a child, reading so many books.  So it came as great enlightenment to me to realize that my version of the world wasn't the be-all end-all version of the world.  And it didn't have to be.  And I'm fine with that.  It actually takes a huge weight off my shoulders.  It surprises me then, whenever other people seem to think that it is, and when I enlighten them of this knowledge, how they fight it.

I suppose, however (if I really think about it), that the reason they do fight it so passionately (as my friend did), is because I am disrupting a very core belief of theirs, one perhaps rooted in making up their life and identity:  that they see the world as it is, how it really is.  And saying that they don't, is not an idea to be borne with -- at least not at the first moment.

And the other thing is, going back to the first argument with my friend, that perhaps the reason why he feels so strongly that Americans are trying to point out your differences, is because he is in America and he, as a minority, feels different.  You feel different, and that's why you feel (or fear!) that everyone is trying to point out your differences.  And so you see all the ways that people do that, real or imagined.  But the argument I wanted to make to him (that I wasn't able to get out) was why is being different such a bad thing?  Why do you have to see it as a bad thing?  Maybe it's good to highlight differences.  That's what the news highlights anyway.  Different stories, different people.  Not the same stories, not the same people.  That would be tedious and unbearable.

Why do I have to be so logical?  Because I want to understand.  And for that I need to take myself (my ego) out of the equation, so I can see the world from other people's points of view.  Because we don't all see the world the same way.  If we did, we probably would never fight. 

As it is, we all see the world the way we want to see it.  Sometimes fear colors it, sometimes the need to be happy -- but we all only see it through our own eyes and interpret it as we want.  Just look at Pat Robertson, and his horrible comments about the Haiti earthquake.  Obviously, the way he wants to see the world is that God is punishing people (even innocent people) for all the terrible sins of others.  Well, that's his world and his God, the way he wants to see it.  Is it right?  A lot of people would say no.  But you can bet he believes his world is the "real world," just like everyone else.

"Esta" vs "Es": For the Moment

I was thinking about this the other day (a refresher because I've thought about it on other days before), that maybe the reason we get so angry, so defensive, so upset when we are criticized is because we think that criticism lasts forever. 

For example, if you look at the Comments section of any online news article (which I recommend you never do unless you want to be reminded of the pettiness and nastiness of some of the people who make up this world), you will see that there is an awful lot of criticism.  The thing about this criticism, and criticism in general, however, is that it is very rarely eternal -- at least for the critic.  You might say "so-and-so this, and so-and-so that" but the next day, the next month, the next year, the next decade, you might change your mind and feel more favorably about a topic or a person so that your criticism of yesterday, of yesteryear, no longer applies.  So for the critic, the criticism means nothing but a passing fling, a chance to make himself feel superior in pointing out others' supposed imperfections and forget his own -- nonetheless, a temporary remark that means nothing to him in the long run. 

For the one who is criticized, however, the criticism is not a temporary remark, but a permanent mark, a Scarlet Letter - if you will - of failure in some area.  And that is a poison that sticks with the criticized person as long as he would let it.  A criticism that meets its mark is like a dart that jabs a person, drawing blood, and leaving a scar he won't soon forget.  The person who threw the dart, the critic, on the other hand, gets to walk off scot-free and happy, forgetting what they have done.  That is, until a wounded person gets angry enough, not to jab back with a criticism, but to jab back for real with a knife or a gun, or any violent weapon that will make the point to the critic that they have been sorely emotionally hurt and are now seeking violent physical vengeance. 

This is the pattern it seems that most men fall into when unwitting looks, remarks, accidental incursions, or plain insults in such places as bars lead to hurt egos, which lead to fights and brawls, fists thrown, weapons drawn, shots fired, men injured or dead.  This is the pattern of emotional hurt being avenged with physical violence.  It is a pattern that happens all the time with men who are not allowed to share hurt feelings in anything but a violent and enraged manner.  A pattern that is sadly condoned and egged on by the society we live in.  But I won't go into all the terrible things that happen because men are not allowed to feel or express their hurt feelings at this time.  That is for another post. 


For this post, I would just like to say that perhaps what is needed is a change in speech, or rather an addition to it.  This is where I got the idea -- from the Spanish language.  In high school, where I took many years of Spanish, I learned that the Spanish language has two different forms of "is."  In English, we only have one, "is" and that is it.  But for Spanish speakers, there is "esta" and "es," which essentially mean the same thing, except that one is temporal and the other is permanent. 

I thought this framework was weird back in the day.  Only recently have I seen how handy it might be.  One, esta, is used when speaking of temporal things, like how well you are: "Estoy bien."  "I am well (for the moment)."  The other, es, is used when speaking of more permanent things, like the color of water: "Agua es azul."  "Water is blue (permanently)."  That is true.  Water is always blue.  I had trouble with this concept in high school because it was so new to me, not having it to digest in the English language, but as I thought about it, I really came to like the idea of creating two forms of "is."  After all, some things "are" a certain way, but only temporarily, and some things "are" a certain way, and permanently, for as long as people have known it. 

If my logic holds true, it would be beneficial for us to add this concept to the English language.  That is to say, not to add another form of "is" because people would have trouble using it or remembering it, but to add a clause that is like the temporal form of "esta" to everything we say that is temporal.  For, for now, we only have the permanent form of "es" when we say "is."  "It is this way."  We only have a permanent way of looking at things, which might not fit the truth of the moment.  So what if we added this qualifier at the end of every criticism: "for the moment."  Would not that help ease hurt feelings?  For now, when someone criticizes you it is easy to take it to heart that it is an eternal criticism that can never be erased or changed, which is usually not true.  So, what if we add this qualifier: "for the moment"?  As in:  "Excuse me, Sir.  You suck, for the moment."  "I hate you, for the moment."  "Nothing is working out for me, for the moment."  Would not this little clause help ease any feelings of intense hate the criticized person would feel, as well as surprisingly ease the indignation of the critic?  I think so. 

For it is like Jack Canfield says, an "always or never" Automatic Negative Thought (ANT), that gets us in so much trouble and gets us feeling so terrible.  It is only when we realize that these thoughts are temporal, these remarks only exist for the moment, that our anger and defensiveness dissipates.  After all, we can all suck sometimes.  We can all be hated sometimes.  It is only an eternal suckiness, an eternal hatred that can not be borne. 

And the other thing to note is that criticism, though it may hurt as much if not more than real physical pain, is not real physical pain.  When you are pricked, and blood is drawn, you hurt; your body does that for you.  But when you are criticized, insulted perhaps, you are not pricked or bleeding, yet you hurt; your mind does that for you.  However, the difference is, the wonderful difference is that when you are criticized, you don't need to feel the automatic hurt that you would feel if you were really physically hurt.  Physical hurt can't be helped.  But you can help if you feel emotional hurt.  It is like what I told my supervisor once when I said something I thought innocuous, but he found to be noxious (and this just came out of me, by the way, without forethought), "You can't be offended unless you want to be."  And that's the truth.

You can be impervious to the criticism, you can be protected against the emotional hurt, by bravely and wisely not letting it affect you, by letting it bounce off your body like rubber (as in that famous schoolyard rhyme:  I'm rubber and you're glue.  Whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you.").  You can not care and not be pierced by anything.  Your skin can remain smooth and untouched, your blood unspilt, your hurt never materializing.  It is possible.  You can build a mental shield around yourself, and protect yourself from emotional and mental anguish.  And for starters you can include the caveat of adding to any criticism, any insult:  "for the moment."

The Exciting New Year

I love the beginning of a new year.  Everything is so exciting and fresh and new.  I want to do things, get things done, be accomplished, because who knows? - in a year, things can work out.  Who knows what can happen in a year? 

Oh, there's so much happiness to be had when the new year starts.  There's so much hope.  If only that feeling could last longer than a month or two or three, when it becomes clear that the year is no longer new, but just the year, and you're falling back into those same old unproductive routines you'd sworn you'd given up for the year.  If only.

I was thinking that perhaps I could keep this feeling of newness, of hope, of dedication to excellence if I told myself each month that the year had begun anew, and here was a new chance to start things off better.  So that's what I'm going to try and hopefully it works because I really like this feeling of rebirth that comes with the new year.  It's like you get a chance to wipe the slate clean and begin again.  The end of the year is so sad, but the beginning of the year, so happy.  In any case, this is what I'm going to do, and I'll update my progress to see if it really does work.